Down the Line
by trollnexus
Summary: Just a conversation on the Knight Bus about relationships.


**Title**: Down the Line

**Disclaimer**: Just a fanfic. No money. (Gosh, I kind of wish there were money, though.)

**Pairings**: Draco/Harry (finally!), background Millicent/Blaise

**Rating**: T

**Warnings**: My attempt at a slice of life.

**Summary**: Just a conversation on the Knight Bus about relationships.

**Word Count**: 2,044

**Author's Note**: This was written for Round 9 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Season 2.

Thanks to asebi for always listening to me ramble about my half-baked ideas. I appreciate your support. :D

.x.x.

_Down the Line_

Draco stood by the side of the road with his left arm tight around Harry's waist.

It was about 9pm. Very early if one were out bar hopping, but very late if one had just left work.

Draco took a moment to sigh and lament the fact that he and Harry were part of the latter group. Harry stirred slightly in Draco's grip, but then he went back to dozing. Draco fondly rolled his eyes at him before pulling out his wand to summon the Knight Bus.

It had been a typical day, he reflected, as the Bus materialised into view. As Aurors, they responded to every cry for help, even the stupid ones. After all, it may sound funny to hear about a teacup that bit someone's bits, but to the person affected, the crime is very serious and must be treated that way. They dealt with about a dozen such cases today, and each one required a lot of paperwork. To be honest, Draco couldn't recall the last time he had ever seen a sunset.

"Step right on up, my dear, and welcome to the Knight Bus, where we—"

Draco ignored the conductor's little speech and paid the fee; he had already had the correct amount of change clenched in his fist along with his wand. Trips on the Knight Bus happened more often than he'd like. Of course, if a certain _someone_ would just learn to nap effectively instead of working his arse off until his inevitable collapse…

He pushed Harry into the first unoccupied bed he found, shoes and all. Harry grumbled, but he didn't move much except to adjust himself into a more natural position.

Draco sat next to him, and the bus lurched forward.

"Honestly, Potter," he chided, as he leaned over to get a closer look at his sleeping face. "When are you going to learn to rest once in a while? Do you think I _enjoy_ lugging you around when you get like this?"

"You obviously do, Draco, or else you wouldn't bother," said a voice to his right.

Draco whipped his head around and saw a hand poke out from behind the curtains of the next bed over. Within seconds, the fabric parted and made way for a very familiar face.

"Millicent," he greeted, his shoulders relaxing. "I didn't know you also took the Bus."

She shrugged, rubbing her eye with the back of her hand and yawning. "Sometimes I just don't feel like Apparating. It's been a long night, anyway." She jerked her head in the direction of Harry's sleeping form. "How about you two? Hot date?"

Draco resisted the urge to snort, but just barely. "Where would we find the time to date? The Auror department's got us working our arses off. By the time we reach the weekend, we end up staying in bed out of exhaustion."

"Mm, now that sounds promising."

Draco shook his head regretfully. "Definitely not what you're imagining."

She laughed and opened the curtains fully, giving him a full view of her setting her head back down on the pillow. "That's the shame of it, really. Nothing's ever as I imagine."

Draco settled in, too, making sure to press himself gently against Harry just for his own personal sense of reassurance. When Harry had first introduced him to the Bus, it had been difficult to keep his balance, even when he was horizontal. He had fallen off the bed enough times to develop bruises all over his body. Practice made perfect, however, and now Draco barely felt the movement of the Bus at all.

"What do you imagine, Millicent? Oh, never mind—I probably don't want to know."

She grinned and turned to face him. "Good choice."

Draco reached back to hold Harry's hand behind him, absently stroking the palm of his hand with his thumb. "So, how have you been? And how is Blaise? I haven't seen his face since my birthday party."

"We've been good. Just celebrated four years together."

Draco exhaled. Four years. He couldn't quite fathom it.

It wasn't that he particularly felt pessimistic about her and Blaise's relationship; he rarely thought of them at all, really. After Hogwarts, his social circle had shifted towards work relationships; it was one of the reasons he and Harry had ended up together in the first place. Yet the thought of _anyone_ staying together for four years, without the bond of marriage…quite frankly, it boggled his mind. Sure, he and Harry had discussed the possibility of a "long-term deal," but it had been a vague notion of time.

Four years.

He and Harry had just barely reached four months.

"Congratulations, Millicent. Four years. That is quite a long time."

"It really is. And it gets longer every second." She said this lightly, however, as if the thought were pleasant but not ground-breaking. "It varies, you know. We have our disputes and our tender moments and everything in between. The former causes time to drag on, and the latter makes time irrelevant. The key, you know, is to make sure the latter happens more often."

"Mm," said Draco noncommittally. He got the feeling that he was about to hear unsolicited relationship advice; perhaps she rarely had the opportunity to share her relationship theories with anyone. He focussed on the subtle rattling of the bus's movement in an attempt to tune her out, but he could hear her regardless.

"What most people don't understand—and what most romance novels fail to mention—is that a relationship requires effort beyond the initial courtship. It may be easy to come up with date ideas in the first few months, but after a while one runs out. Visit the museum? Done that. Dinner at a fancy restaurant? Done that, several times. A trip to a scenic locale? Done that, and besides, neither of us really care for the vagaries associated with travel. Ideas repeat themselves, energy wanes, and one starts to risk feeling boredom in the relationship."

Draco considered this. Would he ever get bored with Harry? He knew he could never get bored _of_ Harry, because he'd known the git for most of his life and had yet to find him boring (annoying, idiotic, impulsive, sarcastic, and frustrating, yes, but never boring). Yet really, what was there to do in a relationship? What if he really did run out of ideas?

"So what do you propose, Millicent? If one cannot come up with ideas forever, what's left?"

"Feelings, Draco. That's what's left."

He grimaced and regretted asking, but she barrelled on anyway.

"You don't always have to do something _new_, but you must _re_new every once in a while. For example, Blaise and I are going on a picnic this weekend. We've done it before, but this time he's going to make the food instead of me. I'm actually pretty excited."

Draco raised his eyebrow at the thought of Blaise making anything. For a suave man, Blaise was actually pretty clumsy with his hands, as Draco knew from painful experience. He swore he could still feel throbbing in his foot from the time Blaise dropped a pile of library books onto him.

She chuckled, probably at the sceptical look on Draco's face. "I'm not expecting a lavish meal. He'll probably make sandwiches, and everything will fall out the moment we try to take a bite. I'm thinking of bringing many napkins, just in case."

Draco continued to grimace. A picnic. Honestly. With a blanket, a basket, and homemade food? Sure, it sounded nice in theory, but there would probably be roaches in the grass, variant weather conditions, and no proper silverware. Of course, Draco could always cast some shields or wards to ensure an optimal eating experience without those blasted outside elements interfering, but Harry would probably complain that it was _unauthentic_ or something.

Then again, he mused, Harry could make a good sandwich, at least. In fact, Harry was a pretty good cook, all things considered. Perhaps he would put _picnic_ on his list.

"But the point is," she continued, "we're going to take the chance to try something new. Not radically new, but just…just a subtle change. Enough to consider it a new experience."

"And this relates to…feelings?" The word felt weird in his mouth.

"Yes."

He waited for her to elaborate, but she yawned and laid on her back again.

"Circe, I'm beat. I think I will just turn in for now. My destination is actually pretty far off, so I'll be here for a while."

Before Draco could ask where exactly she was going, she pulled the curtains closed, leaving him with only a view of fabric again.

He shook his head and turned back to Harry, who had apparently been sleeping throughout the entire conversation. Smiling wryly, Draco kissed his nose, a gesture he would never dare to do when Harry was awake. Harry wrinkled his nose but continued to breathe evenly.

Draco's little conversation with Millicent really did not feel satisfying by any stretch of the word. He had failed to truly ascertain how she was doing, and her attempt at advice felt only half-done. In retrospect, he really shouldn't have expected much; it was night time on a moving bus, after all. Perhaps he'd send her an owl in the morning and invite her to tea for a proper talk.

He snuggled closer to Harry as he reflected on the bits she did manage to say. Four years. He was still fixated on that number. Could they make it to four years?

To his surprise, Harry stirred and wrapped his arm around him. Draco tightened his grip on him, but gently.

"Stop it," Harry mumbled, his eyes still closed. Somehow, Draco understood that Harry didn't mean the cuddling part. "I can feel you worrying about _something_. Is it the sleep thing?"

Draco scowled. "Perhaps. You're a heavy sod to be dragging around in the middle of the night. How many times have I told you not to overwork yourself? You're Harry, not the Chosen One to Do All the Auror Work Ever."

"I don't like leaving things unfinished. You know that," Harry whispered.

Draco sighed, but there was fondness mixed into the exhalation. When they had first started dating, his main concern was that he and Harry would fight all the time. Now his main concern was that Harry needed more sleep. It was a more manageable problem, and he found that if he concentrated more on taking care of Harry than defending his admittedly fragile ego, their conversations went more smoothly.

"Fine. I won't waste energy arguing with you right now. But go back to sleep, okay? I'll wake you up when we reach our stop."

"Okay."

"Wait. Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you think about going on a picnic sometime?"

Harry opened his eyes slightly and blinked up at him. "When?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. Sometime."

"I'll think about it. Goodnight, Draco."

"Goodnight, Harry."

Harry closed his eyes and settled in again, leaving Draco to his thoughts.

There was a lot to do tomorrow. More cases, more reports to write. The daily grind, so to speak.

Was there room for a picnic?

Was there room for a date?

He eyed Harry. Was there room for at least a nap?

"Your stop's coming up soon, sir," said the conductor, who was suddenly next to Draco.

Draco shook his head. "So soon?"

The conductor shrugged. "Maybe we could have another go around, and let your fellow sleep a bit more. We can't do it indefinitely, though."

Draco sighed and nodded. "Please? Just a few more minutes. I'll even pay you extra."

The conductor simply patted Draco's shoulder. "No extra charge. Just make sure to be ready in ten, alright?"

"Okay."

As the conductor walked away, Draco stared up at the ceiling of the bus.

Feelings. No, better not to dwell on that part just yet. He wasn't ready.

Four years. Well, four months now, but it could conceivably be four years eventually.

It was too soon to tell what would happen down the line, but…Draco felt that he would actually like to reach four years.

That thought settled, he brushed the fringe away from Harry's eyes and enjoyed the rest of the ride.


End file.
